Hope in Uncertain Times: A Tribute to Heather Heyer
Full transcript of a sermon given at the Church on Ocean Park on September 17, 2017
I would like to begin by first calling into the room the energy and spirit of resistance in Charlottesville. While we are on that, how about Ferguson? Birmingham? Montgomery? Oakland? Watts? Detroit? Standing Rock? And all other flashpoints of resistance against oppression that we’ve seen, where everyday folk have been catalyzed to put their bodies on the line for justice.
I would also like to acknowledge that we are on Tongva land.
I was trying to think of what to say here in this space of community and worship. What words can be articulated to provide a humble offering of thoughts, meaning and hope. Ultimately, I decided to offer a reflection as a person who has walked the path of our dearest Heather Heyer. I am going to share with you a letter I would have written to her, had we met in this lifetime.
Dear Heather,
We never had the occasion to meet, but if you were in Los Angeles, or I in Charlottesville, I feel certain we would have. We’d been walking the same path. I didn’t know you, yet mourn deeply for our loss. I do mean ours — all who fight for justice in this country can claim you as ours. As details of your life and character have emerged, I can’t help but see you as the mirror image of myself. Your mother said that you, to quote, were “About stopping hatred” and your manager said how you would sometimes sit in your office and cry because you were worried about what would happen in this country. I’ve had those very same thoughts, which has served to motivate me to act to stop hatred in this country, much as it did for you. I have often felt overwhelmed by the amount of injustice and suffering in this world and that has led me to shed many tears.
You were me, I am you, we are all Heather Heyer.
Now the date of August 12th will remind us all of your sacrifice. This was the day that, according to your mother, you were “there with [your] friends, and [you were] trying to simply cross the street as the movement was breaking up that day, and [you were] ploughed down by a young man who was intent on spreading hate and thought hate would fix the world” she said. Witnesses say a man drove at a high speed through a crowd of protesters, and that you were hit as the car backed up after ramming several protesters, injuring 15 and killing you. This is not the fate that you deserved.
As the days have passed, we’ve received more information about you — who you were, your spirit, your drive to make this world a better place and, most notably, that you paid the ultimate price.
You are now a martyr for anti-racist white people in America — for those of us who work to co-create an America free of racist violence; where the ideals of justice and equality enshrined in the constitution and espoused by politicians on all sides are actualized for all who reside here. As I came to know of you, it was clear that we shared the same devotion to white anti-racist action, and made the choice to be part of what Anne Braden termed the “other America.” Anne Braden was a fierce white anti-racist woman from Kentucky who was charged with sedition simply for purchasing a house on behalf of a Black couple in 1954. She was a journalist who remained active in social justice movements until her death in 2006. She told us “What you win in the immediate battles is little compared to the effort you put into it but if you see that as a part of this total movement to build a new world, you know what could be. You do have a choice. You don’t have to be a part of the world of the lynchers. You can join the other America. There is another America!”
Heather, you were us. We are you. This is the other America.
That Saturday, you woke up and prepared your mind, body, and spirit for a day of resistance, of anti-racist action against the Nazis and White Supremacists. You knew, like we all did, that just standing up meant facing the possibility of violence and bodily harm. After discussing the possibility of gun violence at the action, your co-worker recalled that you said “I want to go so badly but I don’t want to get shot. I don’t want to die” yet, you stepped up and resisted anyway, along with many thousands of courageous others who defended Charlottesville that day. No one could have anticipated how prophetic your concerns would become.I’m sure when you awoke, you did not plan for that day to be your last.
The movement lost an important soul that day. We also saw many others injured and traumatized. Yet the movement refused to claim defeat. In fact, it remains undeterred and more fierce than before.
“If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention” read your Facebook wall, undoubtedly a call for others to join you. Now our country’s attention is riveted and we see more white people outraged than before.
To all the white people in this room who are outraged and not involved, who may be frightened, ambivalent, or confused in these times, there is a place for you in the anti-racist movement. We need you. White supremacy isn’t a problem that only exists in the deep south. Right here in our backyard, in Santa Monica, white supremacists have actively disrupted anti-racist organizing efforts at the Committee for Racial Justice, a multiracial group of Santa Monica residences who are working for social justice, and it takes place just a couple miles west of here. According to one witness, in July, a handful of white nationalists from the Red Elephants disrupted the meeting by showing up in covered faces and making anti-semitic and racist comments to provoke the audience. In August, they distributed fake flyers claiming the meeting was “anti-white,” so 20–25 disruptors showing up. They were loud and aggressive, and banged on the windows of the building during the meeting while creating chaos at the entrance door. They continued to try to force themselves into the meeting, while using doctored footage of the evening to create propaganda videos that were viewed online by thousands. In Cudahy, white supremacists protest the sanctuary city status and perform Hitler salutes city meetings. At one point, KKK recruitment flyers were found all over Whittier. Let us not forget that the Los Angeles Police Department kills more of its residents than any other police force in the country, and a third of them are people with mental or physical disabilities, and mostly Black and Brown. I believe that Heather would have said that Black Lives Matter. I believe that Heather would be fighting all forms of racism, including expressions of racist police brutality.
In Heather’s name, and in the name of justice, please find a way to take some action, to help dismantle racism and white supremacy in all its forms. We’re in an historical moment where our country must reckon with itself and decide which side of history it will be on. To all the white people in this room, what side of history will you be on?
Again, speaking specifically to the white people in the audience, those of you that would consider yourself open minded and liberal, it can be easier to denounce the actions of active neo-nazis and white supremacists than it is to recognize our own complicity with the white supremacist system. I would like to offer this quote from Beverly Daniel Tatum “I sometimes visualize the ongoing cycle of racism as a moving walkway at the airport. Active racist behavior is equivalent to walking fast on the conveyor belt. The person engaged in active racist behavior has identified with the ideology of our White supremacist system and is moving with it. Passive racist behavior is equivalent to standing still on the walkway. No overt effort is being made, but the conveyor belt moves the bystanders along to the same destination as those who are actively walking. But unless they are walking actively in the opposite direction at a speed faster than the conveyor belt — unless they are actively anti-racist — they will find themselves carried along with the others.” Please take a moment and think about this statement. Where are you on the walkway?
Assuming yourself to be non-racist will not support dismantling racism. We need to work in our own community to support unlearning our own internalized racism, we need to engage other white people in those difficult conversations around race, and not give up on them. We need to challenge racist behaviors that we see expressed between people and create more opportunities for inclusion in the institutions that we have access to. We need to create a cultural shift that no longer supports the narrative that Black people or other people of color are inferior, and that white is superior — that which is so often promoted and reinforced in our media. We need to redefine whiteness and show the country another way of being white. For those of us that can, we need to take it to the streets. And, for the millionth time, white people, we need to say that Black Lives Matter. It is okay to say Black Lives Matter. Say it with me…Black Lives Matter.
I would like to offer some questions. If you are cisgender, what are you doing to support trans people? If you are heterosexual, what are you doing to show up for your lesbian, gay and bisexual friends? Are you willing to have hard conversations in your friend circles and family, are you willing to show up for your Muslim neighbors and friends? Are you acquiring the skills you need to interrupt racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia? What is your analysis around disability justice? Are you willing to be uncomfortable and inconvenienced in order to show up in solidarity with people who do not have your privilege? Are you willing to be a student and not the teacher? It is not simply enough to feel bad, sad or sympathy, and assume that alone will bring about the change we need. We need people who are willing to step out of their comfort zones, have hard conversations, challenge the institutions they have access to to be more inclusive, challenge the police state, and use whatever your skills and talents are to create meaningful change…not just to opine from the safety of your social media accounts. We need people on that walkway going in the other direction.
As we recognize Heather, we also recognize the countless sacrifices of Black people, Indigenous people, and other people of color who’ve led and participated in resistance struggles over time. They have put their bodies on the line and risked life and limb for centuries against a racist, sexist, classist, ableist, homophobic and transphobic system that keeps us divided and benefits the few.
Heather joined the ranks of those who paid the ultimate price for justice in this country. It’s my hope that her sacrifice is not in vain; that we all heed the words of her mother when she said, “I’d rather have my child, but, by golly, if I got to give her up, we’re going to make it count.” To Heather’s mother, we will make this count.
How do we make it count? How do we draw meaning by what’s been going on? In the chaos and catastrophe that is climate change, the Trump administration, and emboldened visible white supremacy and KKK rallies, there is a glimmer of hope. That hope is the resistance. What gives me hope is when I see 40,000 people from my hometown of Boston in the streets, or 750,000 people in my adopted home of Los Angeles in the streets. Or when we show up, in force, to the Committee for Racial Justice meeting to shut down the Red Elephants. When I see white people asking white people, “what more should I be doing in this time?” When I see standing room only at our meetings and dialogues. When white folks are asking ourselves, what can I do to support the movement for Black Lives? When a room full of people with privilege asking ourselves, how do I leverage that privilege? When Palestinian activists are supporting Ferguson activists, and Black Lives Matter activists visit the Gaza strip to express their solidarity…when immigrants boldly exclaim that they are undocumented and unafraid, and churches open their doors to sanctuary, and cities and states follow. When international solidarity is strong. When the Standing Rock Sioux win a battle in court, or win the battle for hearts and minds of people across the nation that led to thousands of people, including myself, descending upon the camps ready to put our bodies on the line to protect water. When we see the people’s resistance in Flint, MI. When teachers unions strike in Chicago. When DA’s come out and say they will no longer pursue death penalty cases. When we never thought that marriage equality was possible, until it was. The list can go on. That is the beauty of resistance fighters, we see what others think is impossible, we dare to be bold enough to envision a just and equitable world, where all souls are nourished…where liberation is possible. And then we fight like hell to get us there, all of us, not leaving anyone behind.
Heather, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that a hateful man made the decision to drive through a crowd of protesters. I’m sorry that his hate fueled his desire to cause harm, ultimately injuring many and killing you. You probably felt an element of safety just moments before the car drove into the crowd. Much as I have at protests, when I am embedded with activists who are on the side of love and justice, there is a sense of safety in numbers. A sense of protection among the people. I’m sorry that this man’s hateful actions punctured the sphere of protection that surrounded all of you that day. I’m sorry that amid the chaos of the impact, that your life was put in the hands of street medics only, who were not equipped with the means to save your life. I’m sorry that the ambulance didn’t come fast enough. I’m sorry that the police stood by to watch. I’m sorry that your friends and comrades had to watch you suffer. I’m sorry that onlookers witnessed your last breath. I’m sorry that your family will never see you again. I will continue to fight for justice in your name. I am Heather Heyer.
